


looking through glass eyes (nothing goes right in its time)

by srididdledeedee



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, it's happy i swear, this how you do me marvel? this how you do me??????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srididdledeedee/pseuds/srididdledeedee
Summary: May doesn’t regret helping the Spider-people (Spider-kids, really) and it isn’t their fault that she seemed to be a constant in their dimensions.  She’s glad she could do her part to save the world.Still, she wishes she could have also saved her wall.





	looking through glass eyes (nothing goes right in its time)

**Author's Note:**

> me, pointing at the screen while watching into the spiderverse yesterday when may calls doc ock liv: lesbians

May doesn’t consider herself a stupid person, but as she surveys the damage done to her home, she doesn’t feel intelligent, either. Picture frames are smashed, furniture is broken, there is a _hole_ in her _wall_ \- it’s a disaster. Of course, she doesn’t regret helping the Spider-people (Spider-kids, really) and it isn’t their fault that she seemed to be a constant in their dimensions. She’s glad she could do her part to save the world.

Still, she wishes she could have also saved her wall.

The Spider-kids go back to their dimension as she’s still cleaning up the wreckage. There’s a second earthquake, more powerful and longer than the last one, and she sees her remaining cabinets glitch and shake as she’s eating dinner. She makes the executive decision to spend the possible last minutes of her life taking a stroll around the similarly-glitching neighborhood, and when the world doesn’t end, she knows they’ve succeeded. She’s happy, truly.

She misses Peter like hell.

Miles stops by a few days later, when she’s still cleaning up. He’s a good egg, and a sweet kid. May still can’t believe how young he is.

“I felt bad. About, um, your house,” he mumbles. “So I came to see if you needed, uh, help. Cleaning up, I mean.”

“You want to help me clean up?” May asks. “This weighed on you so heavily that saving Brooklyn didn’t fix it?”

Miles shrugs, a half-smile on his face. “Saving Brooklyn’s one thing - I didn’t try to destroy it in the first place. I, uh, _did_ play some part in destroying your house.”

May smiles despite herself. “Don’t just stand out there lamenting, kid. Come on in.”

The relief is evident in Miles’ body language. “Thanks, ma’am. I do feel bad.” He steps inside, and May knows he sees the hole when he freezes and whispers, “God, we didn’t do that, did we?”

“‘Fraid so,” she responds, gazing at the truly spectacular disaster that once was her wall. “I can’t decide whether I should get it fixed or if I should try to find the biggest painting I can and hide it.”

Miles snorts when he laughs, and May knows he’s taken him by surprise. “Man, you sound just like Peter.”

May grimaces, and Miles almost immediately remembers the circumstances. “Shoot, I mean - I’m sorry, ma’am - I wasn’t thinking -”

“You’re fine. It’s just - it’s still fresh,” she sighs. She bends down and picks up some smaller pieces of wood that she had missed before. Miles nods, looking at his shoes.

“No, I get it. My uncle -” He stops, takes a deep breath, and continues, “My uncle died when we were ambushed.” May throws a hand in front of her mouth.

“Oh, Miles, I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

Miles breathes in deeply. “He was shot by - by Kingpin - because he was gonna kill me - but I showed him it was me - and - and he -” May hears a sniffle, and she wraps her arms around the boy. “And his funeral was a few days ago - so I’m just - trying to move on - and I’m Spider-Man now - but it’s - it hurts _so much.”_

“C’mon, hon, sit down,” May says quietly. Miles shakes his head and wipes his eyes.

“No, I’m here for you,” he weakly protests. “I’m here to help you.”

“You’re a kid. It’s not your job to help anyone right now,” May says.

“I’m Spider-Man, it’s my job to help everyone,” he replies, that same half-smile on his face despite his tears, and May is overwhelmed by how familiar the scene is. She purses her lips.

“You know what? We don’t have to start cleaning up right now. Have you eaten lunch yet?” May asks. “I don’t have that much, but I can fix you up with some leftover Chinese if you’d like.”

“Oh, you don’t have to -”

“You prefer lo mein or fried rice?” She asks. “I got both when I had all the other Spider-kids over and now I’ve got enough leftovers to feed a regiment.”

“I - lo mein’s fine,” Miles says, giving in. “And - Spider-kids?”

May sticks the food in the microwave all together _(because what is it going to be, too hot?)_ and chuckles. “Little nickname I gave you all. When you’re my age, everyone’s a kid to you.”

Miles makes an indecipherable noise and says, “You don’t look a day over seventy to me, ma’am.”

May smirks. “Thank you, Miles. That means quite a bit to me, being sixty-five.”

Miles looks like he wants to turn invisible and never reappear. “I am _so sorry -”_

May throws her head back and gives a full-belly laugh. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.” She takes the food out of the microwave and places it in front of Miles, who still appears mortified. “Just keep my age in mind the next time you try to compliment me.”

Miles shovels the lo mein in his mouth, apparently hoping that he won’t be expected to speak with food in his mouth. May herself has no such qualms and begins eating the fried rice as she continues her thought. “Really, don’t feel too bad. You get a pass because you came back to help me.”

Miles nods emphatically, and May points her fork at him. “You are currently my favorite Spider-kid, because you’re the only one to resolve the aftermath.”

It’s not like the others could, even if they wanted to, but that remains unsaid. The tension is relieved, and Miles grins. “Thanks, Miss May.”

“Aunt May,” she corrects, surprising herself.

Miles’ smile just widens. “Alright, Aunt May,” he says happily.

Miles visits periodically - usually sometime around lunchtime on Saturdays, and continues to help May piece her house back together. Her living room eventually looks livable again, except for the hole that they simply have no idea what to do with.

“I’m personally a fan of the big painting idea you had,” Miles says, sizing it up as he vacuums.

“You know, I’ve been comparing the price of fixing the wall and prices of big paintings and I have to say the same,” May agrees, scrubbing at a stain of God-knows-what that simply will not come out. “Especially since I already had to replace my entire door, and that wasn’t cheap.”

Miles hums in acknowledgement. “And your cabinets.”

“And my couch cushions!” May sits up straight. “You know what, I’m worked up enough for some lemonade. You want some lemonade?”

“Oh, yes, please!” Miles says. He turns off the vacuum, and May goes into her kitchen.

She still misses Peter like hell, but Miles helps. He’s a good kid, and she does his best to take the weight of the world off his shoulders. He shouldn’t be under as much pressure as he is.

May walks back into her living room holding two glasses full of lemonade and her mind full of thoughts in regards to her impromptu nephew. She is greeted by the sight of Peter - brunet Peter, who should be back in his dimension - and Liv.

May commends herself for only dropping one of the glasses she’s holding. Peter and Miles web the falling glass at the same time, which saves her carpet from more broken glass, but not from the lemonade stain.

“God damn it,” she says blankly, looking from Peter to Miles to Liv.

“Hi, May,” Liv says, smiling weakly. “Miss me?”

“Peter said she was okay now!” Miles says quickly, stepping in front of her. “That’s why I didn’t say anything when they came in, because they wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You’re not in trouble, Miles,” May says. She points at Peter. “You have a lot of explaining to do, young man.”

“Actually, _she_ has a lot of explaining to do,” Peter says, jerking his head towards Liv. “Since she’s the scientist and everything. I’m gonna take Miles out back and catch up.” He takes Miles by the shoulder, who helplessly looks at May, and she sighs.

“Indulge him,” she says. “He needs this more than you, and it seems I have some catching up to do.”

“Love you, Aunt May!” Peter says before fleeing with Miles. Liv folds her fingers together.

“Please, sit down,” May says dryly. “Join me by this magnificent hole you left the last time you were here.”

“To be fair, it wasn’t me -” Liv starts, but May cuts her off.

“To be fair, you started a fight in my house, where I _live,_ and it has taken Miles and me quite some time to repair the rest of my home,” May snaps. “I think I’m a little justified to have some lingering resentment for the hole.”

Liv nods silently, her eyes flitting between the hole and May. “And you haven’t just repaired it because…?”

“Because I’m not made of money,” May says. Liv nods, biting her cheek.

“Have you thought about investing in a really big -?”

“A really big painting, yes,” May finishes. “I have considered it numerous times. I just can’t seem to find a painting big enough.”

Liv nods again. “I suppose you want to know why this Peter is here.”

“I think that is an excellent start to a conversation we should have had a long time ago,” May says simply. “Here, take my remaining glass of lemonade.”

She makes no effort to hand it to Liv, and Liv makes no effort to grab it.

“After the explosion, I knew it was all over, and that I was alone. Everyone else had been arrested, but I guess Miles thought I had died. I was hit pretty hard. I’m lucky to be alive,” Liv says, biting her lip.

May’s expression doesn’t waver. “How good for you. Get to Peter.”

“I just thought you should know,” Liv says, rolling her eyes. “Considering we -”

“That’s irrelevant now. Get. To. Peter,” May says through gritted teeth.

“I recreated Fisk’s machine, at a much smaller scale - but with modifications!” Liv says quickly. She rings her hands. “I’m a scientist, through and through - you know that better than anyone. This was a failed experiment -”

“Two failed experiments that nearly destroyed the space-time continuum,” May interrupts.

“Two failed experiments,” Liv amends, “But I knew there was a way for Fisk’s vision to be possible.” Her tone turns bitter. “He was the one insisting on rushing. I could have done it perfectly if he had given me more time.”

“I don’t want to talk about Fisk,” May warns, and Liv holds her hands up in agreement.

“So I made a second machine - smaller, more efficient, and with less fallout,” Liv continues. “But I also made tethers - some sort of bracket you attach to yourself, and that keeps you from glitching in a dimension that’s not your own.”

“How do you know that?” May asks.

“Well, through experiments, of course,” Liv answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Human?” May asks. It’s accusatory, and she doesn’t regret her tone, even as Liv frowns.

“Me. I tested on myself,” Liv says. “No one else, just me.”

“How noble.”

Liv’s eyebrow twitches. “I could have died.”

“Seems to be a pattern with you,” May replies. It’s cruel. She doesn’t care.

Liv takes it in stride, sticking her chin out. “It’s a two-way machine - I can go into another dimension as easily as things from the other dimension can come here. The tethers had to go through a few modifications, but I worked with what I had.”

“And then you found Peter.” May crosses her arms.

“I sought out Peter. His dimension is remarkably close to ours,” Liv says. “It wasn’t a problem to stabilize him, but it took some convincing to get him here willingly with me.”

May can’t help but snicker - only Liv would find interdimensional travel easier than interpersonal relationships. It’s endearing, almost.

“That’s the how. What about the why?” May asks, and Liv’s brow furrows.

“What do you mean?”

“What, did you do this out of the goodness of your heart? Some sort of martyr complex?” May presses.

“Can’t be a good Catholic without one,” Liv teases, and God, they’re slipping back into their old ways far too quickly for May’s tastes.

“I’m being serious.”

“I know.” Liv cracks her knuckles, an old tic. “I - I wanted -” She breaks off and rubs her hands on her face. “This is hard for me.”

May doesn’t offer any sympathy. “I’m sure it is.”

“I wanted - I missed you. I missed us. And I knew - I know I screwed up, so I hoped -” Liv talks in shorts bursts, a staccato rhythm of anxiety. “I hoped -”

“That Peter would be a peace offering?” May says, and she knows she’s hit the nail on the head. Liv nods guiltily. “You are a piece of work.”

“May -”

“You left me,” May says flatly. She isn’t angry anymore, but it irritates her to have to constantly remind Liv of the past. “There wasn’t a problem with _us._ There was a problem with _you.”_

“May -”

“There _is_ a problem with you,” May continues, and maybe she is still angry. “You worked for the man who murdered my nephew. Don’t think that this Peter makes me forget that, Liv, Fisk murdered _my_ Peter, and you stood by and let him -”

Liv’s eyes are wide and panicked and May can see tears in them, and May hates that she feels guilty for putting them there. Then there’s a shuffle from behind her, and she turns to see an awkward Miles standing in the threshold between the living room and the kitchen.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says. “Just, uh, Peter wants to talk to you. But he also didn’t want to interrupt. So he sent me out.”

May breathes out deeply, and Liv shifts in her seat. “Peter, you can come here. Don’t use Miles as your messenger.”

Peter slinks past Miles, hands jammed into those sweatpants he’s so fond of. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Don’t apologize, just say what you want to say,” May says sharply. She’s tense, and embarrassed that her and Liv’s argument had been overheard by Peter and Miles.

“You’re a lot different than my Aunt May was,” Peter says quietly, slumped, and May’s heart drops. She wets her lips.

“You’re different than my Peter was,” she murmurs.

“But - I’m glad I’m talking to you now. You’re still Aunt May,” Peter continues. “And I’m sure my Aunt May would have been different if her…situation was like yours.”

May raises her eyebrows, her mouth in a thin line. “My situation.”

“You know, everything with Kingpin and Doc Ock here and the multiverse showing up on your doorstep,” Peter says. He mimics her expression as his gaze lands on her wall. “Not to mention this hole.” He shoves his hands further into his pockets. “So, yeah, you’re different. But you’re still Aunt May. And as long as I’m wearing this -” Peter removes his hands and taps what May can only assume is the tether on his wrist “- then I can see you whenever I want. I don’t think I should take that for granted.”

May has her own arms tightly wrapped around herself, and Liv is no longer on the verge of tears, and Miles is biting his lip but looks considerably less awkward than he did before. “Thank you, Peter.”

“Just my two cents,” he shrugs. His eyes flit back to the hole, and he whistles lowly. “Really, Aunt May, you have _got_ to cover that hole somehow. Plaster, or curtains, or -”

“A really big painting,” the other three say in unison, and there’s a beat, and then Miles giggles. Liv’s shoulder start to shake from laughter, and it turns into a guffaw - a loud, donkey-esque sound that makes May snort. The snort turns into a chortle, which turns into laughter from her stomach, which is maybe an even more ridiculous sound than Liv’s braying. Her laugh makes Miles and Peter laugh more, and Liv is cackling at the noise, which begins the cycle all over again.

They somehow eventually calm down, and are left feeling lighter and happier than before. May feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. Liv meets her eyes and softly smiles.

“Alright. Alright,” May says. “We can - we’ll try to make this work.”

Peter and Miles grin, but no one smiles wider than Liv. May’s heart beats fast, and she has to remind herself that she hasn’t been a teenager for a long time.

(Taking a leap of faith couldn’t hurt.)

A painting arrives at her house a few days later. It’s an underwater scene, with dolphins and sharks and tuna and - in the bottom left- an octopus. It’s huge.

It covers the hole perfectly.


End file.
